Beau Jest
by ucsbdad
Summary: What's this? A blue eyed gentleman who calls himself Rick Smith has joined the French Foreign Legion to forget a woman? However, the woman will not forget him. A definitely one shot AU trip into P.C. Wren country with Caskett and friends.


Beau Jest

By

UCSBdad 

Disclaimer: This has been stolen from Andrew Marlowe, Percival Christopher Wren, Sigmund Romberg, Henry Rider Haggard and others. Rating: K Time: A very AU 19th Century.

"Why did you join the Foreign Legion, _mon ami_?" asked _Legionnaire_ Ryan.

All of the hardened veterans who comprised Fort Zinderneuf's garrison knew that by his speech and manners, not to mention his vocabulary, this was not the usual recruit for _La Legion_. He was obviously an English _milord_, doubtlessly seeking the anonymity of the _bled_ after a cruel affair of the heart.

The blue eyed fellow who called himself Rick Smith smiled and replied. "I enlisted to forget a woman." The old soldiers nodded sagely among themselves. "Her name was Carol, I think. Maybe Connie. Or was it Ellie?"

"_Eh bien, mon ami_, but you must return to your labors before the sergeant sees you." Ryan said.

Rick Smith returned to his labors, trimming the grass in front of the fort's headquarters. Very slowly he lowered his toe nail clippers and sheared off the top of a single blade of grass.

"Oops, too much." He said under his breath.

No sooner had those words escaped his lips than the sergeant stormed out of the headquarters. "Oops!" He bellowed. "You are saying the oops!"

"_Oui, mon sergeant_." Rick Smith calmly replied, standing smartly to attention over the single blade of grass that constituted the fort's lawn.

The sergeant glared at Rick Smith and then at the blade of grass. "This is treason! Mutiny! Cowardice! Rebellion! I will have you keel hauled for this."

"A thousand pardons, _mon sergeant_." Interrupted _Legionnaire_ Ryan, "but the keel hauling requires a ship and usually an ocean. At the very least, more water than we have available here."

"You dare defy me?" Screamed the sergeant.

"Never, _mon sergeant_." Replied _Legionnaire_ Ryan calmly. "I am merely being the good subordinate and pointing out some minor difficulties you will have to overcome to keel haul _Legionnaire_ Smith."

The sergeant glowered at Ryan. "In that case I remove your rank of acting, unpaid, supernumerary, temporary, ad hoc, provisional Lance Corporal immediately. I shall also enter your name in my black book." Snarled the sergeant, stalking back into the headquarters.

"Sorry about that, Ryan." Smith said softly.

Ryan gave an expressive Celtic shrug. "It is of no matter, _mon ami_. I have scaled the dizzying heights of promotion all the way to Lance Jack in my time. I will do so again."

"That Sergeant Josh is mad." opined _Legionnaire_ Esposito.

Ryan nodded. "It is _le cafard_: The small bug in one's brain that drives one to insanity in the endless desert."

"A small bug …?" Rick Smith said, showing interest. "That's funny. I once worked with some people…" Suddenly Smith stopped, obviously wanting to say no more about his past life, now gone forever.

"It is only a metaphor." Said _Legionnaire_ Esposito.

"They say that Sergeant Josh served King Leopold in the Congo Free State, but was too brutal even for him." Ryan said quietly.

Esposito looked around carefully. "I heard that he ran one of the Czar's prison camps in Siberia, but was accounted to be too vicious."

_Legionnaire_ Montgomery spat. "A girl in Sidi Bel Abbes told me he worked for the Kaiser in Togo, but was…"

"Lies! All lies" The sergeant bellowed from inside the headquarters. "I was once the most feared school crossing guard _La Republique _ever had. And one day I shall resume my post of honor."

"Don't believe everything the girls in Sidi Bel Abbes say to you." Rick Smith said with the wisdom of bitter experience.

Before anyone could reply, the sentry high atop the watchtower screamed. "_Aux armes! Aux armes._ "

The _Legionnaires_ grabbed their rifles and manned the parapets of Fort Zinderneuf. There in the distance they could see the feared Tuareg, gathered around their leader. Their leader, dressed all in red and mounted on an Arabian stallion sat atop a dune and stared imperiously at the tiny fort.

"It's the Scarlet Falcon." gasped Esposito.

"It looks more like a Crown Vic to me." Quoth Rick Smith.

"No." replied Ryan. "She is the Scarlet Falcon, the most feared raider in all the desert. They say she can walk over the shifting desert sands and leave no footprint."

"I heard she can scale any wall, no matter how tall and make no more noise than a wisp of smoke." muttered Esposito.

"A girl at the Green Parrot in Bab el Oued told me that she is so beautiful that men go mad just from looking at her." Montgomery said speculatively.

"The girls at the Green Parrot will tell you many things, _mon vieux_." Rick Smith said softly.

The hardened _Legionnaires_ nodded. The girls at the Green Parrot had said many things to the handsome _Legionnaire_, but he had ignored them all.

Then in the blink of an eye, the Tuareg were gone.

Sergeant Josh laughed disparagingly. "Even the Scarlet Falcon thinks twice about attacking into the face of the rifles of _La Legion_. But, to be safe, we shall double the guards tonight."

"I was a twin once, I think…" Rick Smith said, and then stopped.

Now there was a story there, the _Legionnaires_ thought to themselves.

But that night, as the bugler sounded the Last Post, the sentries stared out into the desert with special care. They knew what could befall a careless _Legionnaire_ if he

allowed his attention to lapse for even a second.

Even so, when dawn came it was found that every sentry had ….

"A "kick me" sign on his back?" raged Sergeant Josh.

"_Oui, mon sergeant_." said Ryan, rubbing his tender butt.

"_Sauvages_!" snarled Sergeant Josh. "Why won't they fight like civilized beings?"

Before Ryan could discourse on the military use of the "kick me" sign through the ages, a roaring filled the air.

"We are under attack!" cried a sentry.

Indeed. A hail of bullets slammed into the eastern wall of the fort, just above ground level.

"_Imbeciles_!" laughed Sergeant Josh. "They are shooting too low to hit us, _mes enfants_."

As the other _Legionnaires_ nodded their heads in relief, Rick Smith shook his head decisively. "Each round is knocking a part of the wall away. In a few hours, the bottom of the wall will be shot through and the wall will collapse. And then…"

No one needed to hear what would happen "then".

"But where did the Tuareg get a machine gun?" asked _Legionnaire_ Esposito.

"That's no machine gun." replied _Legionnaire_ Ryan. "That's a bolt action 8 mm _Lebel_ rifle. And it's being fired by an expert."

"The Scarlet Falcon." they all gasped.

No one said anything as Rick Smith mounted the firing step atop the wall and stared out into the desert.

All day long the Scarlet Falcon fired on Fort Zinderneuf and the wall was steadily chipped away. However, the work took longer than some had thought and by dark, the wall still stood.

"We shall escape." said Sergeant Josh decisively. "While the Taureg rest from their labors, we will march out of their trap. March or die, _mes enfants_."

"Excuse me." said _Legionnaire_ Ryan to Sergeant Josh. "But there is a fabled lost city further into the desert. Esposito and I can lead us there."

"Lost city?" Sergeant Josh mused.

"_Oui_." replied Esposito. "The fabled lost city of Nawlins, known to the Ancient Greeks as the Big Easy."

"And how did this city get lost?" Sergeant Josh asked suspiciously.

Ryan shrugged expressively. "The repairs to the Interstate took longer than expected."

Quickly, the _Legionnaires_ gathered up the bare necessities they would need to survive in the pitiless wastes of the desert.

Sergeant Josh checked each _Legionnaire_, beginning with Ryan.

"Portable espresso machine."

"Check."

"Three dozen cases of water."

"Check."

"Ten one-hundred pound bags of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee."

"Check."

"One hundred pounds of sugar."

"Check."

"Ten thousand packets of non-dairy creamer."

"Check."

"Sergeant Josh?" Rick Smith said quietly. "You realize that we're leaving most of the ammunition behind, don't you?"

"Yes. An unavoidable sacrifice, I am afraid." replied Sergeant Josh with a smile. "Those beastly Tuaregs doubtlessly think that they will humiliate us by standing on the ramparts of Fort Zinderneuf and downing espressos from our own supplies. Well, this is one _Legionnaire_ who will never allow such a sacrilege."

Rick Smith rolled his eyes. "What will happen if they shoot us with our own ammunition?"

"Is that a trick question?" Sergeant Josh asked, his eyes narrowing and a suspicious look forming on his face.

Quickly, Ryan interjected. "What if we were to each drink two bags worth of coffee? Then we could each carry two cases of ammunition and leave the Tuaregs with nothing."

No sooner was this wise idea offered than the _Legionnaires_ downed two cases of coffee apiece.

Sergeant Josh led his _Legionnaires_ off into the night. He drove them hard and it was not until the next afternoon that the exhausted _Legionnaires_ collapsed onto their Barcaloungers and relaxed. While Ryan put shrimp on the barbie, Esposito fired up the solar powered refrigerator and prepared the iced coffee _parfaits_.

However, all of the _Legionnaires_ kept an eye, and sometimes two, on the horizon. Even as they listened to the songs of the Little Sparrow on their gramophone, they were unable to shake the feeling that unseen eyes were watching them.

The small band of gallant _Legionnaires_ trudged on through the desert for day after day. Each day the sun relentlessly beat down on them.

"Do you have any more sun block?" Ryan asked Rick Smith.

"Just a bit. Here, Ryan, you take it." Rick Smith said selflessly.

"Buffoons! Sissies!" snarled Sergeant Josh. "You don't see me using sun screen. Back in my day, _Legionnaires_ were tough."

"You do have _Legionnaire_ Montgomery holding a parasol over you though." Rick Smith said with the Anglo-Saxon logic which so bemuses the Gallic mind.

Suddenly _Legionnaire_ Esposito, in the lead, raised a hand to halt the small column. "We are close." He said.

"Bah!" growled Sergeant Josh. "How can you tell?"

"He can read the signs of the desert, _mon sergeant_." muttered _Legionnaire_ Ryan.

And there for all to see was a faded sign.

**YOUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK.**

**ANOTHER SHOVEL READY PROJECT**

**NAWLINS FREEWAY TO OPEN SOON!**

And so the small column pushed on, until just before noon they spied the lost city.

"It's quiet." remarked _Legionnaire_ Ryan.

"That is the way of lost cities." replied _Legionnaire_ Esposito.

"How do you know so much about lost cities?" asked Ryan.

"Wikipedia." _Legionnaire_ Esposito said quietly.

And so the small band of adventurers walked into the fabled lost city of Nawlins. Down the wide boulevards they strode until they reached a vast square in the city's center. There they halted in shock.

"_Sacre bleu_!" exclaimed Sergeant Josh.

"_Zut alors_!" Breathed _Legionnaire_ Ryan.

"_Ou est la plume de ma tante_?" Growled _Legionnaire_ Esposito.

There before them was a vast scarlet tent.

"It can only be the Scarlet Falcon." _Legionnaire_ Rick Smith said in a whisper.

Sergeant Josh drew himself up to his full height and let his pack drop to the ground. "Fix bayonets, _mes enfants_. Now it is time for Rosalie's breakfast. _Allons_!"

And so the brave _legionnaires_ strode into the tent of the Scarlet Falcon. Once inside they halted, stopped dead in their tracks by the beauty before them.

Matchless brown-flecked green eyes gazed upon them from a face of a goddess. A halo of hair the color of the desert at sunrise framed a perfect face with high cheekbones, a generous mouth and an imperious nose.

She wore a dress the color of the desert sand, but much hotter. Although her dress ran from her lovely neck to her delicate feet, most of the rest of it was not there. The _legionnaires_ could clearly see her long, muscular legs, her tautly muscled abs and a cleavage the likes of which few have been privileged to see. A cleavage of great beauty and depth, one that was…..But we are more interested in the story, _mais oui_?

"Hello, Rick." She said softly. "I've been looking for you."

_Legionnaire _Rick Smith said not a word.

Sergeant Josh stepped forward and bowed slightly while keeping his rifle leveled at the Scarlet Falcon. "_Mam'selle_, you cannot work your feminine wiles on _Legionnaire_ Rick Smith without dealing with his comrades of _La Legion Etrangere_."

The Scarlet Falcon nodded. "Are you gentlemen of _La Legion_ aware of the buffet by the far tent wall? The free buffet?"

Alas, in an instant, Rick Smith stood alone facing the Scarlet Falcon.

The two stood staring at each other for long minutes, neither wanting to be the first to speak of the things that needed to be spoken of.

Finally _Legionnaire_ Ryan, having found a meter long loaf of bread and making a sandwich of Camembert cheese, goose liver pate, Bavarian ham, Beluga caviar, boeuf bourguignon, a few small chickens and a healthy slathering of Roquefort sauce, approached the two. Expertly smashing the neck of the bottle of Chateau Lafitte-Rothschild, '35 against the tent pole, he took a long drink.

"_Eh bien_." He said contentedly. "A small snack is good for one's soul." Ryan elbowed Rick Smith gently. "It would be good for your soul to speak to your lady, _mon ami_."

Rick Smith gulped. "Are you mad at me, babe?"

The Scarlet Falcon raised an exquisite eyebrow. "Should I be?"

Rick blushed. "I mean, about Ellie, and all."

"I'm not an unreasonable woman, Rick." The Scarlet Falcon said demurely.

Both Rick and Ryan stifled a laugh.

"No, you're not." Rick replied earnestly.

"We should go home to the loft." Kate Beckett said with finality.

Rick Castle nodded. "You're right, babe."

"What of us?" Interjected Sergeant Josh. "Are we to stay here in this lost city until the free lunch disappears?"

"There ain't no such thing as a free lunch." Rick and Kate said in unison.

"However," Castle continued, "it looks like the Interstate will be arriving here in another week or so. You guys have the opportunity to be in on the ground floor, so to speak. You know, have a big party, say on next Tuesday and invite all of the neighbors. Before you know it, Nawlins will be bigger than Disneyland."

And so _Legionnaire_ Rick Smith bid _adieu_ to his comrades. Then Rick and Kate walked to the Crown Vic that had brought Kate to the lost city of Nawlins.

"Can I drive?" Rick asked, passionately.

"Oh, what the hell. Go ahead." Kate said demurely.

Before entering the Crown Vic, they turned to look one last time at the scarlet tent. Already the _Legionnaires_ had a neon sign advising passersby that it was now the "Scarlet Falcon Pub." Even as the two watched, a carload of college students, hoping to make the Princeton Review's list of the ten best party schools, arrived. On the still desert air could be heard the strains of Otis Day and the Knights.

Rick sang along ….

Well, you know you make me wanna  
>(Shout) Throw my hand up<br>(Shout) Kick my heels back  
>(Shout) Throw my head back<br>(Shout) Come on now (Shout)  
>Don't forget to say you will<br>(Shout, Shout) Don't forget to say  
>(Shout)<p>

"Oh, don't worry, Castle." Kate Beckett said. "I'll make you want to shout."


End file.
